


You Get a Big Delight in Every Bite

by Sapphy



Series: Nothing Hurts X-Men 'Verse [2]
Category: Cable and Deadpool, Marvel (Comics), X-Force (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Brotherhood, Candy, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Hostess Fruit Pie ads, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Brainwashing, Recovery, Twinkies, bad day fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8522092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphy/pseuds/Sapphy
Summary: There's a lot of things Stryfe doesn't understand about the 21st century, but top of the list is why anyone likes Twinkies.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a Bad Day Fic prompt, which asked for fluff involving Stryfe and Cable or Brother Nathan. Since Brother Nathan would get my vote for worst multiversal Nathan Summers (and that's one hell of a hotly contested contest) I went with Cable.
> 
> And then since I was making members of the Summers family happy, it had to go in my Nothing Hurts 'verse, because no version of canon outside the X-babies has ever features a happy Summers.
> 
> The title (and a fair chunk of the story) is a reference to the silver and bronze age Twinkies and Fruit Pie ads which used to run in DC and Marvel comics.

“And this is food?” Stryfe asks, staring down at the brightly wrapped package in his hands. There's some sort of writing on the package, but it's no language he's familiar with. 

Nathan makes a small noise of amusement, but doesn't look up from the gun he's busy cleaning. “Contains about as much nutrition as your average housebrick,” he says, “but yes, it's food.” 

“Don’t listen to Nathan,” Hope says firmly. “He's just bitter cos Unca Wade didn't give him any candy.” 

“Candy,” Stryfe repeats, carefully copying Hope’s pronunciation of the unfamiliar word. “Is it significant, to give gifts of candy?” 

“It was common in the past to give sweet foods or candy to loved ones on days of celebration,” Nathan explains. “Though people would also it on days which had no significance. The giving of gifts was much more common then.” 

“So the fact that this Unca Wade gave this candy to Hope and not you...” 

“Means he likes me more,” Hope says smugly. “Even though he kisses Nathan.” 

“I'm nothing but an incredibly inconvenient booty call to that man,” Nathan says, with a slight smile. Stryfe is unsure whether the smile means that Nathan is amused by the way Unca Wade thinks of him, or if what he just said was intended to be taken as a joke. He will ask later. For now his attention is taken up by the puzzle of the food-not-food called candy. 

“So Hope’s gift to me of this candy is a sign of esteem and affection?” he asks. 

Hope shrugs. “Sure. Plus if you're gonna stop being evil, you gotta learn how to be a superhero, and Unca Wade says superheroes eat Hostess Twinkies snack cakes. And fruit pies, put those aren't as nice.” 

Stryfe considers the idea of their being special food eaten by rebels. It seems unlikely. 

“Is this true,” he asks Nathan, appealing to the highest source currently available. 

“Wade's knowledge of the popular culture of his time and geographic location are almost unparalleled,” Nathan says, dabbing oil onto a cloth and carefully pushing it into the muzzle of the gun, “but the things he says are best treated as unreliable at best, due to his mental difficulties and extremely suspect sense of humour.”

“Wade says Spider-man and the Fantastic Four eat them,” Hope argues. “And they’re…” She screws her face up in concentration. “Pro-to-typical superheroes.”

Nathan makes a small noise that might be agreement, or amusement, or just a noise, and slots the barrel of the gun back into place. “It’s generally considered rude to refuse a gift of food,” he says, nodding to the Hostess Twinkies snack cake Stryfe is still holding.

Stryfe would not like Hope to think he had distained her gift. He looks for a way to open the wrapping, and seeing none, he tears it, as carefully as he can.

He glances at Hope for confirmation that that was the right thing to do, and then, encouraged by her smile, he takes a bite.

He is distantly aware of flavours and textures, but all he’s really registering is “Sweet.” Overwhelming sweetness, more sugar than he’s ever tasted before. It makes his teeth ache.

“I keep expecting to get used to that about food 21st century American food,” Nate says. “But I never do. No other culture or time I’ve come across uses to much sugar in their cuisine.”

“That’s ‘cos future food sucks,” Hope says firmly. “Or it does the way you cook it.”

“You’d rather Wade cooked for you I suppose?”

Hope bounces a little on her heels. “Yes! Pancakes for every meal!”

“Sure you would get bored,” Stryfe asks. “I quickly grew tired of nutrition paste.”

“Nutrition paste sounds icky,” Hope days. “Pancakes aren’t icky, pancakes are great. I’d never get bored of them. Or at least, I wouldn’t get bored of eating them before Unca Wade got bored of cooking them.”

“Probably true,” Nathan agrees. “Hope, it’s time to wash-up and sleep, okay?”

Hope sighs. “Fine. But don’t think I don’t know you’re getting rid of me so you can have grown-up conversations.”

She picks up her small pack and a canister of water and heads to a nearby outcrop of rock that affords the most privacy available in the wasteland.

“You don’t have to eat the Twinkie if you don’t like it,” Nathan says, voice low to keep it from carrying to Hope. He is a careful guardian to the child, and would never allow her to pass out of earshot if it could be avoided, which means that any conversation he wishes to keep from her must he had in whispers.

“It is not unpleasant,” Stryfe assures him. “Just strange.”

“I am not fond of sweet foods. Wade insisted on my trying every type of candy he could find when we lived together, in the hope of finding some I enjoyed.”

“And did he succeed?”

“I do not dislike liquorice, which Wade insists is a crime against candy, and very dark chocolate is pleasantly bitter.”

“This Unca Wade… he is your lover?” He has not understood most of what has been said or implied about the man, but Hope had said they kissed one another.

“Yes, though not exclusively. We see each other very rarely.”

“And the title Unca – I have not heard it before. What does it mean?”

Nathan laughs softly. “It was the closest to Uncle that Hope could manage when she first met him. Aunt and Uncle are often used in that time for adults who children consider to be family by affection or proximity, rather than blood.”

Stryfe colours a little as he realises his mistake. He hates being made to look foolish. “I did not know.”

“It’s okay. No one expects you to learn 21st century mutant culture overnight. It’s only been a few weeks since you first broke free of Apocalypse.”

“I do not like to look stupid,” Stryfe says, stiffly.

“Everyone looks foolish sometimes,” Nathan says, laying a metallic hand on Styfe’s shoulder. He can feel the unnatural heat of it even through his shirt. “It’s how we learn. But I don’t like it either.”

Stryfe thrills a little, as he always does, at this point of similarity between them. He had respected Nathan when they were enemies. Now they are allies he looks up to him, allows Nathan’s actions to guide him. “It was much easier when I could just kill any who witnessed my errors.”

“That does sound restful,” Nathan admits. “But lonely.”

“I am used to being lonely.”

“So was I, but I have learnt it is better not to be alone.” He smiles. “Being surrounded by family is the greatest gift, brother. I hope you will come to learn that.”

Nathan hasn’t moved his hand from Styfe’s shoulder, and he can’t resist leaning into it. His brother. He has never had a brother before, but when he was a child he would dream of it. Someone wise and kind and strong enough to scare away even the man Stryfe was supposed to think of as his father. “I hope so too.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed it, don't forget to leave a comment.


End file.
